Bare
by ForensAnthro
Summary: While observing a dying planet, Voyager's crew finds themselves acting inexplicably...intoxicated?
1. Teaser

_August 2012l_

_Author's Note: I always thought that Voyager deserved its own version of the Star Trek: The Original Series and The Next Generation episodes "The Naked Time" and "The Naked Now", respectively. So...here it is! Enjoy and leave me a review, please! _

Teaser

The starship Voyager slowly circled the orbit of the k-class planet, a greyish, rocky body surrounded by a ring of green asteroids. Several shuttlecraft hovered around her like ducklings following their mother. Below, the purple-grey marble shook as another titanic, orange crack rippled across the surface.

In Voyager's observation lounge, two officers stood at the window. The lights were dimmed to better allow Captain Janeway and her executive officer to view the magnificence of the planetary break-up.

"Seven tells me that each of those asteroids has a core made purely of natural, very flammable gases," Janeway reported.

"I'll try not to spark the circuitry, then." Chakotay grinned.

Janeway flashed her brilliant smile. "I think we'll be alright, commander, as long as we're far away from here when it explodes.

"Still…" Janeway stepped closer to the window. "It's incredible how so much destruction can be so gorgeous. Because it _is_ beautiful, wouldn't you say?" She turned to look at him.

"Yes," Chakotay said softly without breaking eye contact. "Beautiful."


	2. Chapter 1

The command team sat on the couch in the captain's ready room. He was writing up duty rosters for the coming month and she read reports, sipping coffee. They worked in a companionable sort of silence until Chakotay's stomach gave a very audible growl.

"Hungry, commander?" Janeway asked him wryly over her teacup, not taking her eyes off her PADD.

"Can you blame me? It's already 1900 hours!"

Janeway checked the time and saw he was correct. "I _could_ use a break," she admitted, setting down her empty cup.

"C'mon," Chakotay said, getting to his feet and offering the captain his hand. "I hear Neelix's latest creation is edible!" Janeway laughed at Chakotay's teasing of her ever-cheerful and slightly eccentric chef as they strode down the steps arm in arm. Unexpectedly, the door chimed.

"Enter," Janeway called, breaking away from Chakotay and hurriedly sitting behind her desk. She didn't want the crew to get the wrong idea about all the extra time she spent with her first officer; rumors were the last thing Janeway wanted (although in truth, it was a bit late for that).

Seven of Nine walked in looking thoroughly shaken, eyes wide and face pale. "Captain, I…something is wrong." Seven stared blankly at the floor.

"Seven, what is it?" Janeway rose from her chair, concerned. It took a lot for Seven to be anything other than perfectly composed.

"I feel most…unusual," Seven said at length. Janeway noticed that the statuesque ex-drone was wobbling a little; Chakotay caught her by the elbow just before she could topple over. "Seven!" Janeway rushed over to take her other arm, and together, she and Chakotay guided their off-balance young friend to the sofa, where she slowly sank into a stiff sitting position. Janeway sat down beside Seven and placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "Commander, I need a site to site transport for two to sickbay!" She ordered. Chakotay nodded and reached for his commbadge, but Seven blurted out, "No captain, it's not that." Seven grabbed Janeway's shoulder in an iron grip. "Then what _is _it, Seven?!" Janeway questioned, sharing a worried glance with the commander, who stood above the two, ready to call for help. "It's just…that…I" Seven's voice cracked with emotion. "I miss my collective!" She finished, bursting into tears and collapsing onto her captain's shoulder. They would have been less shocked if Janeway's desk suddenly professed its' undying love for her; the command team watched, astonished and slightly horrified as Seven sobbed. After a few seconds, Janeway placed a consoling hand on the young woman's shaking back. "Sickbay!" She urged.

The doctor was humming happily to himself as he worked the console in his office nestled inside sickbay. He was writing up a series of tutorials for Tom Paris (and anyone else he could rope into sickbay duty, for that matter) to study in his spare time. The hologram was cheerfully beginning a new paragraph on a ridiculously obscure and complicated procedure Paris would probably never have to perform when he heard the familiar _zwoosh_ of the transporter.

The doctor rushed out to sickbay's main area to see a large shape of blue light materializing by biobed 1. After a few seconds, the doctor realized it was Seven of Nine being supported by the command duo, each of whom was holding her up by an elbow. Strands of shiny blonde hair were coming undone from Seven's normally meticulous, severe style, and her eyes were puffy and red. She stared blankly, her eyes unfocused.

"Seven! What happened?" He cried in horror as Chakotay helped Seven up to sit on the main biobed. The doctor had always had a soft spot for the beautiful ex-drone; perhaps it was because they were kindred spirits, both searching for humanity, or maybe it was the added compassion in his bedside manner parameters of his ever-growing program. Her killer figure didn't hurt either.

"She stumbled into my ready room and promptly started weeping into my shoulder-that's all I can tell you!" Janeway explained.

The doctor calmed, slightly ashamed at the panic that had risen when he had first seen Seven, unbalanced and shaky. He frowned; he wasn't supposed to react like that. He'd have to check his program later. After a moment, the doctor spoke.

"Believe it or not, Captain, I'd say this is a good sign. Seven, apparently, is finally coming to terms with the drastic traumas to her body and mind for years. In fact, I'm relieved she seems to be comprehending the severity of these changes! I think we're finally getting through to Annika, the little girl who was assimilated all those years ago. Maybe now, with some help, Seven _will_ find her humanity," He finished. Janeway smiled, but it was bittersweet; it looked as though Seven would still have to feel pain to find pleasure. _Although perhaps that's what being human is, _Janeway mused.

"I hate to disagree, but I'm not so sure, Doctor," Chakotay interrupted their sentiment . While the captain and the medical hologram had been in discussion, Seven of Nine had slumped over, resting her head and hips on the bed, still clutching Chakotay's elbow and- giggling?

"Do not be concerned," she slurred, smiling up at her amazed shipmates. "My wellbeing is adequate. Adaptations are necessary for-for-*hic* individual survival and species evolution…

"In fact"-Seven sat up suddenly, her body swaying-"As my doctor and commanding officers, I bleeve*hic*believe you all to be integral parts of my necessary adaptations." Seven made eye contact with each of them as tears of emotion welled in her own eyes. "I have not mentioned it, but you _are _my collective. _You're_ my collective!" She repeated with the air of having a great epiphany, grabbing Janeway's hand and gripping Chakotay's shoulder. "We are one!" she whispered happily, slumping forward.

Chakotay gently forced Seven back down on to the biobed, where she stayed this time, eyes closed and a goofy half-smile on her face.

Chakotay and Janeway stepped back as the doctor danced around sickbay, pressing buttons and grabbing instruments. The clamshell technology was just enveloping Seven's lithe figure when Tom Paris ambled in reading a PADD.

"I gotta tell you, Doc, you're killing me with these tutorials! What are the chances I'll need to know how to treat the bite of the Volthraki bloodworm?" He stopped when he spotted Voyager's command team concernedly watching the doctor. "Captain, commander," he said, curiosity evident in his voice. "Seven?!" Paris exclaimed, observing the familiar shoes protruding.

"Yes, Mister Paris," The medical hologram snapped as he waved a tricorder over Seven's form. "Now, make a log entry. 19:11 hundred hours; Seven of Nine comes in with-" He was interrupted by Seven, who had opened her eyes and turned to face Paris. "Designation Tom Paris, helmsman. You are also of my collective," she said with a watery sort of smile. Paris gaped; Seven was icy towards him on a good day.

"Mister Paris!" The doctor said impatiently, now typing away at the tricorder. "Uh, right-" Paris said, shaking his head as though he could shake Seven's strange words away. He stationed himself behind a monitor. "Shoot, Doc."

"19:12 hundred hours, Seven of Nine is beamed directly from the ready room to sickbay supported by Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, appears off-balanced and weak; further symptoms include abnormal changes in her emotional state, bloodshot eyes, difficulty walking and slurred speech," the doctor paused to analyze the tricorder's results. "Furthermore, I'm detecting raised levels of cortisol and a slight decrease in immune and nervous system responses, possibly due to some sort of depressant," he concluded.

"So basically, she's-drunk?" Paris asked. The doctor searched the helmsman's earnest face, as though to check whether he was joking. Everyone's gaze fell to the patient. Seven turned her head and hiccupped, a spot of drool on the corner of her upturned lips.

"Rediscovering her humanity, huh?" Janeway asked dryly.

_So whaddya think so far? More to come later. Don't forget to leave a review, please! Thanks:) _


	3. Chapter 2

Chakotay, Janeway and the doctor gathered round the monitor on his desk in sickbay's office. A rather apprehensive Paris was trying to get a coherent thought from Seven, who was now sobbing over B'Elanna's obvious dislike towards her. The Doctor pulled up the official Starfleet medical diagnostics archive.

He started pompously, "Being the embodiment of this program, I can tell you that there are dozens of documented symptoms of alcohol intoxication, and Seven is displaying quite a few of them-"

Janeway interrupted: "I would've thought being drunk was "inefficient". Shouldn't her Borg nanoprobes be able to take care of this?"

"Seven is the first liberated drone ever, as far as I'm aware, and we still don't know a lot about the Borg. Apparently, the Collective can't hold its' liquor," Chakotay chimed in, humor in his eyes.

Janeway had to smile, but it faded as a new thought came to mind. "And who, exactly, thought it a good idea to give Seven alcohol?! I doubt she replicated it herself; the girl's practically still learning how to eat!"

"Names come to mind," Chakotay said, his voice steely. Their eyes met, and they knew they were thinking the same thing: _Paris._

"If you hadn't interrupted me," The Doctor cut in irritably, "You'd know that this is not a simple overdose of alcohol in the bloodstream."

Janeway and Chakotay turned to stare at the hologram, who stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "Then what is it, Doctor?" Chakotay asked.

"I don't know," The Doctor said curtly, wishing he had a more definitive answer. "But, Seven's neural transmitter keeps regular scans of her physiology; I will download those immediately and keep working!" He said hastily, catching a glimpse of the look on the captain's face.

Janeway was giving a weary sigh, on the inside; just what she needed, a ship-wide epidemic! But these situations just went with the territory of being a starship captain, and Janeway forced herself back into the moment.

"Thank you, Doctor. Keep on it. I need to brief Tuvok, if you'll excuse me," Janeway walked out of sickbay with her best "captain's stride" followed by her loyal first officer, who nodded at the Doctor. No sooner had they stepped outside the doors, however, then Tuvok himself stumbled up to Janeway. His eyes were wide and slightly bloodshot. "Captain," was all he stuttered. Then he turned his head and vomited, giving her boots a near-miss.

"Still hungry, Commander?" Janeway asked Chakotay.


	4. Chapter 3

By 0700 hours the next morning, the Doctor had his hands- and sickbay- full. About a dozen officers and crewman had staggered in, nauseous and dizzy. In addition to the main biobeds, temporary ones had been erected wherever space was available, and it was on these that the unfortunate souls collapsed, groaning. Tom Paris had been on duty all night, trying to make the patients more comfortable and holding back hair while they heaved. He himself did not know what all the fuss was about; he felt pleasantly tingly and happy, if not a little lightheaded.

The Doctor was hunched over a monitor when he cried out, "Aha! I've got it! He turned to Paris. "They'll definitely be reading about me in Starfleet medical textbooks once I share this discovery, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said presumptuously.

Paris, however, had just caught an all-too-familiar look on Ensign Wildman's face, and managed to force a metal bucket beneath her chin just in time. "And what's that, Doc?" he asked uninterestedly, trying his best to pretend he was doing something other than holding a bucket of vomit.

The hologram turned the screen towards the lieutenant, where a diagram of some chemical particle was displayed in glowing, neon green. The Doctor showcased the screen like he was presenting a doctoral thesis. "_This_," he began, a smug smile on his face, "is the cause of all of- _this_," he gestured to the sickbay full of miserable crew. "You see, this particle is a complex polywater molecule carbonizes upon reaching the brain, achieving…" Paris' eyes began to glaze over. He was feeling looser, more relaxed and more agile with each moment that passed. What was he doing here in sickbay? He suddenly realized how much fun one could really have a starship.

Right on cue, his commbadge rang. "Kim to Paris!"

Ensign Wildman seemed to be done for the moment, so Paris set the bucket down. The Doctor stopped, angry that the lieutenant was not enthralled in his presentation. "Go ahead, Harry," Paris answered the call.

"Man, you _have_ to come to holodeck 2 and see what Ayala's got set up!" Paris could hear whooping and cheering in the background noise. "Just get down here!" Harry ended the call.

As though following an order, Paris turned on his heel towards the door.

"Lieutenant, you are urgently needed right now! You can't leave! If Captain Janeway were to find-

"Computer, deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram!" Paris shouted. "What are you do-" The Doctor cried, his face full of horror, just before he disappeared. "And don't let him reactivate himself again, either," Paris added. The computer complied with a beep. He smiled to himself as he left sickbay; problem solved.

_What are you hoping to see next? Don't forget to leave a review! _


	5. Chapter 4

Seven drunkenly staggered out of sickbay. She had stayed there all night assisting the Doctor (well, she tried to anyway- the Doctor had to keep repeating himself), but she had passed out shortly and had just come round a few hours ago. All the miserable crew members seemed to laying in a stupor and both the doctor and Mr. Paris were nowhere to be seen. _Boring!_ Seven thought.

She suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway. Although she certainly felt emotions under her mask of efficiency- irritancy and impatience, chiefly-never had they been easier to understand and act on. Pleased with her realization, she wobbled on.

Seven had been stumbling up the corridor for a few minutes and was starting to get nauseous, a feeling completely new to her. Her vision swam, she stumbled; she was falling! Oh no, she wasn't- Seven looked up and realized a crewmember from engineering had caught her. His jacket was unzipped and his blue shirt was stained and dirty. Seven's new-found instincts switched to alert; she did not like the way he was leering at her or his arms encircling her waist, hands sliding lower.

"Hello," he grinned. Seven said nothing.

In an instant, he had shoved her into the wall and pushed his mouth hard against hard against hers, effectively pinning her there. Seven was deceptively strong and thrashed like a caught fish, squealing through the forced kiss, but her attacker had taken her by surprise and she could do nothing as his hands groped her trembling body, until at last-

"Oof!" Was all the drunken engineer had time to grunt before another vicious blow sent him staggering into a wall and then sprawling on his back, completely unconscious. A boot toe lightly kicked his shoulder and the crewman's head lolled back.

Seven's eyes travelled up the shoe to look into the face of her savior. "Designation B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer!"


	6. Chapter 5

_I am proud to present the much-anticipated Harry/holodeck scene! _

Tom turned the corner to the corridor where Voyager's holodeck entrances were nestled. The doors were supposedly thoroughly sound-proofed, and yet, incredibly, he could hear harsh music. This had to be the right one. He grinned and went in.

What greeted him was an assault on the senses; the cavernous room was dim but for weird blue, green and pink back lighting that emanated from squares on the dance floor, where there were at least a couple hundred writhing figures, Starfleet uniforms amongst them. A techno beat pulsated so loudly he could feel the vibrations.

Tom searched for Harry, although was sidetracked by the Delaney sisters, who had both stripped down to their underwear and were whooping and dancing on neighboring tables. After a few moments, he continued wobbling through the seemingly-never ending club, the beat thumping through his veins.

In the end, he almost didn't recognize Harry when he found him! His normally shy young friend was surrounded by half a dozen green girls with skimpy outfits and too much makeup. "Tom!" Harry called out. "There you are, you son of a phaser!" He had a giggling girl on each arm and for some inexplicable reason, was wearing sunglasses. Inside. Where it was dark.

"Hey, Harry!" Tom merged with the group and began dancing with the alien women, who immediately began feeling his muscles and batting their forest-colored lashes. "I see you dropped B'Elanna." Harry was barely audible over the music. "Izz ok, she's a prude anyways."

"Whadid you say?" Tom's eyes narrowed. He was beginning to feel nauseous and dizzy, and was tempted to just punch those stupid sunglasses off Harry's smug face.

"Hey, itz cool man, I'm just saying," Harry raised his hands, "if you ever get in her pants, lemmee know. I'd take a turn, ha!"

Tom laughed along with Harry for a moment.

Then he punched him in the face.

Harry staggered back a few paces, the green girls hurrying out of the way, and then launched himself at Tom. The two rolled along the floor, grappling, until Tom pinned his opponent to the ground and blows began raining down on Harry until both eyes were so swollen he could hardly see a thing. Tom had just raised his fist for a particularly devastating punch when Harry finally freed a hand and caught him right in the nose. Tom heard a sickening crunch and felt blood pour down his uniform. Then the room swam and he knew no more.

"Seven! Why are you crying?" B'Elanna crouched down next to Seven, who had slid down the wall once her attacker had released her.

"You saved me, even though your dislike towards me is blatant. Your character is of higher moral fiber than I previously assumed! Forgive me!" Seven wailed, clutching B'Elanna's hands and falling into her lap. "Oh Seven." Tears were rolling down B'Elanna's cheeks now too. "I don't hate you. I'm just envious… you're so beautiful and you gained respect without screaming and breaking noses. I'm just so…so Klingon and friendless and ugly!"

Seven sat up and looked at B'Elanna shocked, in a bleary-eyed sort of way. "No, no! You are well-admired amongst the crew and I have always found your appearance to be most aesthetically pleasing!" A part of Seven's brain that was still functioning noted that she was getting better at talking like an unassimilated humanoid with each moment. "Singularly, your use of *hic* cosmetics. They are applied with such skill azto *hic* enhance your features," B'Elanna looked touched. "I wonder if I shall ever be skilled at such endeavors," Seven finished sadly, eyes downcast.

"Of course you will Seven!" B'Elanna slurred fiercely. "I'll teach you myself. And we'll get you something nicer than those biosuits the doc makes you wear. No," she continued to Seven's watery smile, "itzabout time you had a friend!" She heaved herself to her feet and then helped Seven up. "C'mon, lezgo to my quarters, I have this rose-coloured lipstick that'd look just _great_ on you." The unlikely pair left Seven's unconscious (and forgotten) attacker on the floor and stumbled down the hallway arm-in-arm, giggling for no apparent reason. "B'Elanna," said Seven, growing serious for a moment, "you're of my collective."

Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell in a dead faint.

"Aw, you're my friend too, Six-Ah, Seven," B'Elanna mumbled happily, taking a few paces forward. "Seven?" She looked back when she realized her new found friend wasn't following her. "Seven!" B'Elanna cried in horror to see Seven sprawled out on the carpet. B'Elanna stared for a few seconds, then grunted as she heaved the unconscious woman into her arms. Seven's head lolled back as B'Elanna slowly staggered towards sickbay- annoying though he was, she needed the Doctor.


	7. Chapter 6

Janeway was hunched over the pilot's console, frantically pressing buttons. She glanced up to see fiery cracks engulfing almost all the surface of the purple-grey planet. Janeway wasn't really sure what the hell was going on, but she did know one thing: She had to get them out of orbit before the planet below them exploded, taking Voyager and her crew with it! Janeway pressed the button that would send them flying at warp 9- no response. She tried again. Nothing.

"Janeway to engineering!" She cried, slapping her commbadge. "Engineering, come in!"

"Ensign Vorik here, Captain." Someone finally responded. He sounded terrible.

"Vorik, planetary break-up is imminent. I need all the power you can give me!"

Down in engineering, Vorik had been lying on his back behind a console, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and upper lip. At this, he stiffly stood up and turned his attention to the machine, doing his best to ignore the three engineering personnel giggling drunkenly at the optics console and the gay couple passionately embracing on the level above him. "The warpcore is offline. It will take approximately twenty minutes to bring it to full power."

"Understood, and get on it! Janeway out."

Janeway hurriedly took off her jacket and crewneck shirt-God, it was hot, someone must've messed with environmental controls- and pinned her commbadge onto her white camisole. "Roberts, ETA on planetary break-up," she called behind her. "Ensign!"

She looked to the tactical station that Ensign Roberts had been manning; no one was there. Janeway jogged over to find the young woman passed out on her back. Janeway rolled Roberts on to her side-death by choking on one's own vomit was _not _romantic-as she had done with the two other now-unconscious gamma shift bridge crew and then assessed the information displayed on the console. Shockwaves from the planet's explosion would assault Voyager in less than ten minutes.

They were out of time.

The normally-stoic Chakotay fidgeted as he rode in the turbolift. He too had ditched his Starfleet uniform jacket, instead pinning his commbadge directly onto the fitted blue crewneck he wore beneath. Half an hour ago, he had gathered all the remaining crewmembers who were not infected with the strange intoxication disease (virus? Disorder? Whatever it was) and helped them to barricade themselves in the mess hall with Neelix, who was armed with a frying pan to keep the drunken sick out. Chakotay was a little hazy on what happened between then and now, but he knew that he wanted to see the captain and that she was on the bridge, so that was where he was heading now.

Chakotay stepped out of the lift and onto the bridge. The sight that greeted him was the planet they were orbiting almost completely immersed in dramatic, Dante-worthy flames. Didn't Janeway say they'd be long gone before this? Chakotay's mind swam as he tried to make sense of it all.

He glanced over to his left to see Janeway bent over the optics console. She had stripped down to a tank top, baring lovely shoulders and a long, graceful neck. She looked so beautiful with her hair a little mussed like that-but then again, he thought she was beautiful anytime.

"Kathryn," he murmured, stepping towards her.

"Commander!" she said, meeting his gaze. "Asteroids!"

He was confused-well, more confused than already. "What?" But Janeway was darting around the bridge, checking displays and pressing buttons at various consoles. "Those asteroids are virtual balloons of fuel. We don't have to wait for the warp core to come back on line; we just have to create our own controlled explosion!" She quickly raised the aft shielding and then poised herself behind a console, ready to fire a photon torpedo at the asteroids that would hopefully blast them to safety.

"Brace yourself," Janeway turned to advice the commander, but suddenly his lips were on hers, hot hands that must be leaving marks on her neck and waist, body pressing up against her…

_Fear not, my JCers- plenty more command team goodness to come! What did you think of Tom and Harry's holodeck antics?_


	8. Chapter 7

"Why?" Janeway groaned as she pulled away. The captain had been doing her best to ignore her symptoms, but the sudden, intimate contact exacerbated them.

Chakotay cupped her face with soft hands. "Because you are strong-minded and brave and you give me peace and I love you," he slurred, a cheesy sort of grin on his face. Janeway grasped his wrists. "I am not brave," she told him, uncharacteristically emotional. "I wasn't brave enough to stand up for my crew and demand that the caretaker send us home then and I'm not brave enough now to tell you that I love you too because I'm afraid of being caught in a compromising position and-" She was cut off by another searing, slightly sloppy kiss, pressing her against the console. This time, it was Chakotay who ended their embrace. He clutched her hands and pressed his forehead against hers. They shared a contented smile, all prior urgency regarding their rather dire situation completely forgotten. "I love you," he repeated soppily.

"I love you too, Chakotay. Zo much." Janeway slurred, an equally-goopy grin on her face. Abruptly, Chakotay paled and pulled away from her, now wide-eyed. "Kathryn," he muttered. "I don't feel so we-" Then he sank to the ground in an dead faint.

The surprise effectively snapped Janeway back into the moment. She suddenly remembered there was something she had to do, something very important-but what was it?! Her head reeled, mind fuzzy and slow, her limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate. Joining Chakotay on the floor and shutting her heavily-lidded eyes for just a moment seemed like a good idea…but no, NO, there was something she had to do!

Janeway turned and stumbled towards the console. With her very last ounce of strength (and clarity of mind), she pounded the button and released the photon torpedo.

The orange flash hit the closest asteroid the same time as the dying planet finally blew, resulting in an explosion of cataclysmic, awe-inspiring proportions. Great yellow-green flames leapt up to meet the relatively tiny starship, scorching the smooth metal underbelly. Voyager was flung helplessly, flipping over and over through the void of space, until it finally corrected itself to hull-side down, dragging to the left a little. All lights flickered out.

The dead starship came to a halt.


	9. Chapter 8

_Ugh...I've been trying to resist adding new chapters immediately to build up some suspense, ya know? But I can't wait for you guys to see what our favorite command team and the rest of the crew have gotten up to... hmm, I guess I'll just have to update! ;) _

The doctor marched down the hallway determinedly, Tuvok and B'Elanna just behind him. Each carried a black messenger style bag embossed with the symbol of Starfleet medical. The bags normally contained emergency aid kits but these had been taken out in favor of dozens of hyposprays procured a few hours ago once the drunken chief engineer had finally reactivated the EMH.

B'Elanna had stumbled into sickbay carrying an unconscious Seven just as the artificial gravity had switched off. "Doctor!" she shouted as she was suddenly hurtled to the ceiling. Nothing happened.

"Computer! Activate emergency medical hologram!" B'Elanna yelled. The sickbay patients were now spinning through the air desperately grabbing for the walls. B'Elanna did not like the green tinge on some of their faces and hurriedly tried to wiggle out of their way. "Authorization code required," the computer replied coolly.

"A code-what idiot embedded an authorization code?" She asked, angry in a woozy sort of way.

The computer responded in calm, pleasant voice. "Ensign Thomas Paris embedded the authorization code."

B'Elanna tried to swat away a stray tricorder that was hovering near her head but lost her balance and ended up flipping upside down. "Remind me to kill him," she slurred crankily, ridges growing red as her blood rushed downwards. "Unable to comply," the computer said.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and entered her own override code. Abruptly, the artificial gravity came back online and B'Elanna landed in a heap on top of Seven of Nine, who had stayed blissfully unconscious as she floated through sickbay, occasionally bumping into a random medical instrument. "Get back here, Paris!" The doctor shouted as he materialized. He realized that the drunken pilot was long gone and took in the disastrous sight of sickbay. It looked as though a Romulan tornado had swept through; medical equipment, pillows, blankets and crewmembers were scattered everywhere.

The doctor sighed. It seemed like this happened every time he deactivated. He reached for the prototype of the cure and headed for the replicator.

That had been hours ago; now, he and a now-cured but very grumpy B'Elanna and Tuvok marched through the corridors of Voyager stopping every now and then to give a passed out crewmember a puff of a hypospray and ordering them to report to their duty stations. Eventually, they found themselves at the door of holodeck 2. Leading the way, the doctor went in.

It was pitch black inside the holodeck. "Computer, lights on," Tuvok ordered. A great collective moan rose from the dozens of crewmembers who lay contorted in various positions as the glare of the harsh lights hit them. The reason why they hadn't found many officers in the hallways or their own quarters was clear now; evidently from the trash, empty bottles and articles of clothing flung about the holodeck grid, it was here where the wildest party had occurred. After taking in the sight of their best officers drooling into the floor, the team got to work. "What-what is this," Joe Carey asked pitifully as Tuvok pressed a hypospray to his neck. "It's a hangover, Mister Carey," the doctor answered cheerfully. "Shhhh!" several voices urged him. "While Voyager observed the planetary breakup, you were all subjected to a phenomena that caused complex polywater molecules to carbonize in your brains, causing an intoxication effect," he continued just as loudly. "The after effects appear to be like a standard adverse reaction to an alcoholic overdose. The hyposprays should help with the head and stomach aches, but you may still be a little… "hung-over" for a while," the doctor explained as he tried to roll a reluctant Jenny Delaney onto her side. He stopped when he realized she was topless and instead pressed the instrument to the back of her neck.

In the meantime, B'Elanna had reached the corner of the room, where Voyager's pilot and optics officer were propped up against the wall side by side. Harry sported two black eyes and Tom had a fat lip, along with a suspiciously crooked nose. "I'm so sorry about those things I said, man. And your nose." Harry slurred to his friend. "It's just…it's Libby. I miz her soo much, I…" tears welled in Harry's eyes. "I think you and B'Elanna could have something really great…I'm so happy for you!" he began sobbing in earnest.

"Hey, hey, itzokay," Tom said woozily, pulling his weeping friend in for a hug. "Just cry it out…itzokay, I'm sorry too…"

Harry, apparently finished, straightened up and placed a hand on Tom's shoulder. "You're my best friend, Tom. I love you man."

Tom reciprocated, grasping Harry's shoulder. "I love you too," he slurred, tears of emotion brightening his eyes as well.

"Am I interrupting something?" B'Elanna cut in dryly, standing before them. She noted that apparently not everyone had moved past the drunken stage of the condition yet.

"Ah, not so loud," Tom winced. The two looked up to see their unimpressed friend, arms crossed and hypospray in hand. "Hey," Tom elbowed Harry. "Look, it's banana!" There was a brief pause before both started laughing hysterically as though it was the most hilarious thing they'd ever heard. "I can't…believe… I meant to say "B'Elanna" but…instead…" Tom choked between raking laughs.

Harry somehow staggered to his feet and pulled B'Elanna in for a bear hug. "I love you banana!" he smiled into her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," B'Elanna muttered as she pressed a hypospray into Harry's exposed neck. He stumbled out of their embrace and leaned into the wall as some of the color came back into his beaten face.

"What happened?" he murmured at last, eyes wide as he surveyed the trashed holodeck.

"Ya got wasted, Harry. I'm proud of you," B'Elanna said, patting his shoulder. She then crouched down in front of Tom, who seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes in focus. "I love you, banana," he cooed at her with a dopey grin. "Do I get some of that cure stuff too?" With her head cocked, B'Elanna regarded Tom for a moment, taking in the swollen lip and drool on his chin. She felt a pang of pity, but it was fleeting; because of him, she woke up under a pile of snoring, vomit-covered sickbay patients. "Nope," B'Elanna said, standing back up. "You're just fine, Flyboy. Now, we have to report to the bridge. No one's heard from the captain or Chakotay."


	10. Chapter 9

_Let's see what those silly bridge crew members have gotten up to..._

Captain Janeway inhaled deeply. She detected a delicious scent; spicy, earthy, very sexy. As her senses returned, she became aware that she was pressed against the smooth skin of someone's bare neck, her leg trapped between theirs, their fingers entangled in her hair. Mmm, that felt nice. Janeway opened her eyes only to be burned by an outrageously harsh glare-not so nice. She tried again, blinking a few times as her eyes came into focus. The warmth she was snuggled up against now turned out to be Chakotay, whose plush lips were pressed against her forehead like an endless kiss. Since when was he shirtless? Not that she really minded, anyway. But wait…since when was _she_ pants-less?!

That certainly captured Janeway's attention.

She sat bolt upright and then immediately regretted it as her head gave a painful throb and her vision swam. Once the world stopped spinning, Janeway realized she and her executive officer had taken their intimate repose in the middle of the bridge, leaving scratchy carpet marks on her bare skin. The three other bridge members were still there, thankfully unconscious. Suddenly remembering the severity of their previous dilemma, Janeway craned her neck to peer at the view screen to find only rocks and dust floating in the vacuum. _That will become a beautiful nebula someday_, Janeway thought to herself appreciatively. _I wonder who will be here to witness it, and if they'll ever know how glad I am to be alive to see it forming._ The poetic thoughts, however, were quickly driven away by another series of God-awful throbs in her head, and she reclined back onto Chakotay's outstretched arm again, groaning.

Chakotay's eyes fluttered open and he squinted at the light, which really was unbearable. Someone had to have messed with those settings as well, Janeway decided. "Kathryn?" he said weakly.

Janeway brought a hand up to cover her aching eyes. "Chakotay, did we…?"

Chakotay pondered this for a moment and then reassured her with a moaned "No." Now that he said it, Janeway started to remember what happened after she jammed the button that sent them spinning through oblivion-she had clung onto the console for dear life as the artificial gravity switched on and off (which did nothing for her nausea, to say the least), finally coming to rest in Chakotay's strong embrace…yes, she remembered now how hands and mouths moved frantically all over each other, how hungrily they had torn at each other's uniforms…and how hard she had struggled to stay conscious, a battle she ultimately lost soon after Chakotay's powerful body went limp in her arms.

"I remember," Janeway mumbled. She then began the tedious task of trying to make it to her feet. "Chakotay," she called wearily, trying not to further the massive headache she knew he must have (she certainly felt it). "We have to get up now."

Chakotay gave a weary sigh, but struggled to his feet by leaning on the helm nonetheless- bizarre alien intoxication disease or no, she was still the captain.

Janeway, in the meantime, was trying to make it to her chair, although without much luck. She wobbled so violently Chakotay grabbed her by the waist to keep her from falling right over, and Janeway responded automatically by placing slender hands on his bare shoulder and the arm that held her. Their gazes met, and behind the weariness of the dreadful symptoms, they could see ideas begin to form as to what last night _really_ meant.

Suddenly, the turbolift doors _swooshed_ open (entirely more loudly than necessary, Janeway winced). Tuvok, the EMH and Harry and Tom, both of whom were nursing some nasty bruises and cuts on their tired faces, spilled onto the bridge. "C'mon people, move!" B'Elanna demanded crankily as she pushed her way past them. "What's the holdu-oh," she said, spotting what everyone else was staring at. The astonished group-for even Tuvok raised an eyebrow-took in the sight of a shirtless Chakotay and a pants-less captain holding each other and exchanging a soulful glance. The command team started at the intrusion and turned to stare back at the group with equal mixes of humor, horror and misery on their faces. "Didn't you mention something about compromising positions last night?" Chakotay breathed.

In an instant, Janeway had broken away from Chakotay's supporting grip and began addressing the crew with as much authority she could muster having to half-whisper, hands on her hips. "Three things need to happen," Janeway proclaimed, wincing slightly. "One, the good doctor needs to tell me he's found a cure for this godforsaken affliction." The EMH raised a hypospray clutched in his hand. "Good. Two, I need all essential personal at their stations figuring out what the hell happened and reports on my desk in an hour, and three-" she cut the crew off as they started to move towards their respective conns, looking down and sighing at her embarrassingly lacy underwear. "-I really need some pants."

_What do you think? And how will J/C handle this awkward morning after?! Leave a review, pretty please!:) _


	11. Epilogue

Two days after "The Great Holodeck Incident of 2375", as the drunken party became remembered as, Chez Sandrine's was crowded. Almost everyone was there (except for the engineer who attacked Seven- he was hiding in his quarters out of shame, even though she decided not to press charges). The blurred high Voyager had experienced featured cruel retribution, and many of her crew were still nursing pounding heads and roiling stomachs. Sandrine was having a jolly time showing off her infamous hangover cure to the mumbling crowd in the smoky lighting.

Tuvok, Vorik and Seven of Nine stood stiffly by the bar, having drained their glasses of the somewhat repulsive hangover cure in one gulp. Each had a scowl bigger than usual.

Tom, Harry and B'Elanna sat at a table in the corner, wearily sipping from glasses Sandrine had just set in front of them. The two men had been a little awkward around each other after finally recovering from their drunken illness, but it had quickly faded, and B'Elanna grinned at their familiar demeanor. She was just considering asking them what exactly they had beaten each other to a pulp for when she heard her own name: "B'Elanna Torres."

She looked up to see Seven of Nine standing before her sporting a fresh biosuit and a frown. B'Elanna quickly stood up and Harry and Tom stopped their conversation to stare.

"What is it, Seven?" she quizzed.

Seven looked a little uncomfortable, and paused a few seconds before beginning. "I wish it known that the sincerity of my gratitude for your kindness was sincere, as was my enthusiasm towards bettering my social acquaintance with you. I hope that we may be…friends." She finished stiffly. B'Elanna smiled.

"I'd like that, Seven. Join us?"

As Seven brought a chair to their table, Harry and Tom filled her in on B'Elanna's new nickname, "Banana". The three laughed when Seven informed them she did not see the connection between Voyager's chief engineer and a yellow Terran fruit.

"I know zat look, _mon capitaine_," the blonde hologram told Captain Janeway with a knowing smile, who was perched on a stool at the end of the bar. She leaned over the captain, a sultry glint in her eyes. "Where was Monsieur Chakotay during your _repose ivre?_"

Janeway massaged her aching temples. "Drooling into the carpet, no doubt," she told Sandrine icily.

The French woman sniffed haughtily as though offended by Janeway's lack of scandalous, intimate details and produced a tall glass of thick orange liquid with a flourish. She then flounced away with a tray full of other glasses, leaving a cloud of heavy perfume in her wake.

Janeway had just gagged down her first sip of the concoction (which tasted like what Janeway imagined liquefied Starfleet standard uniform boots would) when a familiar form slipped onto the chair next to her.

"Remind me to never observe planetary phenomena again, Chakotay," Janeway groaned.

Chakotay smiled. "I'm surprised you haven't been chugging coffee. It really helps."

Janeway cast him a sideways glare over her glass. "I spent the next two weeks' replicator rations on new pants," she said stiffly.

Chakotay willed himself not to blush as he remembered exactly _how_ his captain managed to misplace such an important article of clothing.

His grin faded. "Kathryn, I'm really sorry. I wasn't-"

Janeway held up a slender hand, stopping him. "Don't worry about it, Chakotay." She sighed, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but we were both…drunk. I owe you an apology."

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," he blurted out.

Janeway stiffened at the meaning of his words, but soon relaxed her face into a crooked grin. "Chakotay, I'm still entirely too hung over for this."

"What if I buy you a coffee, my quarters? It'd certainly help…sober you up," the commander said, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes.

Janeway could've sworn her headache lessened then and there. She slipped her arm through his proffered one and they strode away, sharing a smile, both experiencing flutters that had nothing to do with alcohol- or indeed, carbonized polywater.

_Thanks for sticking with this dribble for so long;) Now, I'd just luuuurve it if you'd leave a review telling me what you think, pretty please! _

_Live Long and Propser. _


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